


Past Midnight

by Dragockon



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: 1886, AU, Aiden - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assassin - Freeform, Assassin's Creed Syndicate, Celtic, Character's views don't always reflect my own, Evie and Henry because too cuuuute, F/M, Female duisguised as a male, French, Frye Twins, Irish, Language Barrier, Light flirting with jacob but nothing serious, London, M/M, Multi, Other, Syndicate, Tags, Trans, Transgender, Various Gender Indentities, cursing, period common racism, person - Freeform, possible trans-phobia, rating miiiight change, so much tags, yeah - Freeform, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2019-10-20 01:58:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17613257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragockon/pseuds/Dragockon
Summary: Alvah O'conner... Or should I say Aiden O'connor? Is running away from her Templar Uncle after witnessing him brutally murder her father. Confused, betrayed, and afraid, she finds herself alone on London streets, with little to no knowlegde of where to go or what to do. She finds herself stumbling onto the Frye's train and having a unfortunately moment of bad luck as Jacob seems to mistake her for a Blighter.Now that she's in London, what adventures will she have? What things will she see?Only time will tell.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aiden's mother was French, her father was a Celtic. Now she's lost on london's streets running from her uncle.... How did this all start? Where is she? How will she survive as a woman in this world? Or maybe... Not as a woman at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS AN AU.  
> Yep, Aiden is actually from my other Assassin's Creed Story Billious Cooperation and set in Ezio's time period... But I had a bunch of funny ideas and got inspired and made this AU of Aiden in 1886 London, cause why not? 
> 
> I literally have almost none of this planned so don't expect a grant ending... Its just for fun, throw ideas at me and I might include them! Just a inspired idea I threw together for fun so expect anything, again this is an AU, NOT Cannon to Aiden.

It was a full hour past the midnight clock, a bell clock some where in the shrouded darkness of London's street went off. _Do they usually ring bells at night?_ The thought was a interesting one, but quickly faded away as the black boots of Alvah's foot-steps struck the wet pavement. It was night, and she was alone... Or was she?

During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless-night she paused only briefly, catching her breath. One question rose above all the others, even above the unknown and new sights surrounding her. The smell of the darkness that enveloped her on this cold street was strong, the smell of wet pavement, musky dirt covered bricks, and a hint of blood, her own blood... But that wasn't a concern right now. One question rose above the cloud of fear that had settled into her mind.  _How?_

_How did he find me? How was he so fast? Was he still behind her?_ These were all very concerning thoughts, one's she wished she had an answer too. But alas, she didn't. And that sent a new rush of fear through her veins, filling her trained muscles and bones with a new burst of energy. She knew she would collapse if she stopped for too long, she felt... Tired.

So tired.  
Oh so very tired... Not just any kind of tired, a weariness filled her body, her bones, her very soul it felt like. Heavy, deep, as heavy as the darkness of the fog in this equally heavy night. It felt like no matter how hard she breathed it was never enough, her body needed _more_ air, but it would have to wait. It needed _sleep_ but it would have to wait, it needed _food_ but that too, would have to wait.  


She ran a hand through her long curly hair, it was the one thing that seem to contrast in the bleak and dark night. Because its colour was one of obvious Celtic - Irish, heritage. But there was defiantly another European blood in there, which specifically was hard to tell however. Since it was common for red-heads to be pale one couldn't tell by skin-tone alone. Her eye's were a bright red, a odd colour, but shined lowly in the dim night. 

She heard footsteps behind her.

Her time was up.  


She didn't bother to look both ways before crossing the street, flinching as her boot landed in a puddle sending cold-chilling water up into her face. It was not clean water, and the smell of horses and year-old dirt from the road mixed into the muddy water filled her nostrils. She wanted to gag, but held her dinner down - or what remained of it - as she ran towards the stone-brick building across from her. Glancing up, her eye's flashing as eagle vision consumed her world for a brief flicker of a moment, it was all she could manage in her current state. Spotting a way inside on the third floor. 

She had to hurry, or her pursuer would surly spot her. So she climbed, with ease in fact, the claws that protruded from her leather gloves sinking into the cracks on the old London bricks easily, giving her better and stronger grip. She ignored the pain in her ribs, feeling the tear there widen and making her want to scream in pain. But she held the scream in, she had screamed enough tonight, so much so that her throat felt hoarse. She briefly wondered how her life had changed so dramatically...

She blamed the Templars, _sick bastards._ She thought with rising anger, as she heaved herself up past the second-floor window. The Templars, and her uncle, uncle Louis, her father had been a Assassin, and Louis apparently was a Templar unbeknownst to his brother-in-law....

All was peaceful for many years, father was often away - running all around France - he was Irish and that's where she got her ginger hair from. But he had moved to France and fell in love with a Frenchwoman, making their daughter a mix of Irish and French. Growing up in France, her accent more fitting that of a french person, including the language primarily being french - but she also spoke English - along with her Irish looks, she tended to throw people off. Plus the whole concept of 'marry within your own race' thing was still a big part of the world. So 'hybrids' like her were looked down on, she had learned to ignore people's look though.

Her father was often away, leaving her in the care of her lovely uncle... Or he _had_ been lovely until tonight. Being more of a father to her then her real Dad ever was. Still, Dad would visit and teach her how to climb, how to use a dagger, and even a short sword on rare occasion though that had only been a few times really. Just enough to know how to escape a enemy really, her father never intended her to fight for long. Teaching her mostly grappling moves, trips, kicks, things to be able to disable her opponent or stun them so she could climb up a building and run away....

She was no Assassin, and he never intended to make her one, despite teaching her a few things. She was a woman and he felt it wasn't right for a woman to learn to fight, she wanted to scoff every time he said that - if he only knew how _unwomanly_ she acted when he was gone!  


A sigh escaped her, she never expected to use the skills her father taught her, there was a shout from behind her and her heart beat increased. The roar of her pounding heart and the rush of adrenaline was too loud, too much, for her to figure out the odd accented English of the words being shouted.

All had bean peaceful in her life... Until Louis found out her father was an Assassin.  
Until her father returned one night, until Casey returned.

Until she was too curious for her own good and went to investigate the angry yelling of french in the hallway...  


Until she froze when she heard shouting.  
Until she looked to see Casey hanging limply from a sword speared right through his middle, eye's wide with horror, mouth agape to scream 'run' but no words coming out.  
Dead green eye's starring lifelessly back at her.

Then Louis had shoved her into a closet and left her there for hours, probably to bury her father and report back to whoever his boss was. She had been locked in there for hours, turning into a whole day until he finally came back. Practically interrogating her with angry and firm words. Underneath that was a hint of fear in her eyes, fear she too, was his enemy.

She had been lucky to escape and sneak aboard the first train she saw, followed by a boat, and soon finding herself in the British Empire.  


London. 

She thought she was safe, she thought she had escaped, but some how - he found her. He was here.

Louis was here.

Her heart felt ready to explode.  


  
A gun shot went off, and for a heart-stopping moment she slipped as she feared she had been shot. But she felt no pain, her slip had been caused merely by shock of the sound. _Wait, since when did Louis have a British accent and a pistol?_ She thought, glancing down as her hand gripped the lip of the open window. She felt her heart jump to her throat as she peered down at a small group of three men, dressed in red coats laughing and mocking her.  


She was wearing a dark purple dress, all muddied, blood covered and torn up now though. And they could see up her skirt she realized, they were making crude jokes and laughing. Telling her to come down, and when she ignored them, they grew angry and threatening. Now they were pulling out pistols...  


Not Louis. At this point she was almost relieved, she had no idea who these men were. But they weren't Louis, she counted it a victory as she hauled herself into the window, lifting her legs up over the edge- another shot rang out and this time a scream of pain escaped her as it grazed her left shoulder, she fell into the room tumbling into a pile on the floor. It hurt, and she really just... Wanted to lay there, to give up. 

But she couldn't.  
Not yet.  
Luckily it sounded like those men thought her too much work and gave up.  


She was in a bedroom oddly enough, a man's bedroom from the look of the clothing hanging in the open closet. An idea suddenly popped into her mind. Louis was looking for his niece, for a woman... _Not a man._  


A bitter wry smile spread over her face, she always wanted to get a haircut....  


* * *

Alvah stood in front of the mirror, she was lucky whoever lived here wasn't here currently. His clothes were a bit loose on her thin frame but they weren't too bad... She had cut up a silk shirt and used it to bind her chest, cutting her curly hair short - especially on top, even shaving the sides mimicking some of the Native-American paintings she had seen when visiting her grandmother. She had no idea how accurate those paintings were but she always thought it was a good look anyway.

She had tied cut her hair short in the back too, but not too short, long enough to stop above her shoulders, so she had it tied up in a ponytail. She found a dress shirt, a red one, and on top of it she wore a long waist jacket, it had seen some wear and tear but it would do, it was long on her due to her short size - the ends of it tapering off below her knee's at the back, and just above her knees at the front. It was a dark purple, She placed a shirt over the wound on her ribs to stop the bleeding, washing it out with water, and tying a red hash around her waist to keep it on place. Ripping up another red shirt to tie around her arm under the jacket to keep the bullet nick from bleeding too much. It hurt still and she didn't dare move her arm out of fear she might just collapse from pain.

She couldn't stop, not yet.

Now looking much more like a man then a woman, Alvah quickly escapes the house and makes her way down the street. She was heading to the train station, she had no home, no place to stay, no one she knew here - and she knew better then to sleep on the street with Louis about.

So she was going to go hitch a train and sneak into some dark hole or empty cart to sleep. It seemed simple enough especially this time of night. She might have to wait awhile though... What if the train wasn't even at the station? She didn't know how much longer she could stay away. Something told her she should really see about getting her wounds looked at but... _Louis_.

She'd rather keep running, so run she did, soon finding herself at the train sation, it was almost totally empty, nothing but the soft wind and a quiet sound of metal breaks hitting the equally metal rail-road as a train started its warm-up to take off once more. It seemed luck was on her side, because there _was_ a train on the track right now, but it was warming up, and about to take off... And she was all the way on the other side of a wide dark, dimly lit, expanse of tiled floor from it.

" _merde_ " she cursed under her breath.  


She ran as fast as her boots would carry her, her side _screamed_ as she felt the blood dripiing down her side staining her jacket - well - the jacket she stole technically. But she ignored the feeling of hot burning pain followed by hot burning blood as she ran, the train was moving all too fast and she feared she would miss. If she missed....

_Louis's dark black eye's gazed down at her, his left hand dripping with dark red blood. Her father's blood, Casey's blood.  
Daddy's blood.  
_

She jumped, hand reaching out, as she pulled her knee's up and grabbed onto the side of the train using the momentum to swing into the back of the cart, rolling rather loudly into the room before collapsing against a desk, feeling the table tremble dangerously threatening to make the carious cups, pens, and candle-stick to fall on top of her. _The least of my worries,_ she thought as she lifted her arm just in case...

A quiet silence fell over her. What... Kind of train was this? This was no cargo train, it was... Lived in. She found herself in a desk-kitchen kinda area. Junk was everywhere, papers, tins, cups, plates, random tools and things. It was lived in, that was obvious, maybe they had stitches, maybe she'd be lucky and find medicine, maybe the person who lived here wouldn't be here right now...

Maybe, maybe, maybe...

She rolled over, letting out a moan of pain, stumbling to her feet and searching the cupboards. "Where is it... Th-There's gotta be..." her world felt dark around the corners, _it hurts, it hurts._ Maybe in the next room? All she found was food and junk, some papers, something about some stupid syrup company. Finally her hands opened a drawer and found bandages and stitches and a needle, perfect! She quicly grabbed them, looking over to the next cart. There was a light on... Was someone else here? _To the front of the train, I need to go to the front._ She thought as she half-stumbled through the kitchen and over the carriage full of coal, falling onto her knee's as she fell down in the front part of the train. No one was there, not yet, the fire having been stoked full.

Good, she... She was safe.  
For now.  
She was safe...

She undid her jacket, taking the bloody clothe around her arm and stuffing it in her mouth, ignoring the iron-like taste of her own blood, she needed to keep her screams muffled... This was going to hurt. Briefly her mind flashed back to when Dad taught her how to stitch yourself up - but she quickly pushed that thought away due to the pain it bubbled up. Taking a deep breath, Alvah... _Aiden_ she thought to herself, reminding herself of her new... disguise.  
Set about stitching _himself_ up, once he was done all his strength had gone and he passed out in the conductor's seat.

 

* * *

Aiden.... Awoke before the sun rise, it was still early and dark though not quite as much as it had been when he passed out. The first think he saw was his blood stained hands and jacket, the dried up specks of blood he left on the cold floor of the train. Oops... _I need to get moving before the owner of this train finds me..._ He thought to himself, groaning in pain as he rose to his feet.  


The binds on his chest weren't the most comfortable thing by any means, but the longer he wore it the more he got used to it. _I'll have to give myself a breather eventually though... When no one is looking..._ He thought to himself, or his chest would be raw and red and then he _would_ be regretting it. _Being a man is hard ugh..._ He thought to himself with a amused chuckled, his smiled quickly fading as his side sparked in pain. At least he wasn't bleeding anymore.

Aiden clambered quietly over the coal once again, sliding softly onto the floor. _I should just get off at the next stop but..._ He was curious. Too curious for his own good.... _Just a quick peak at that wall with the papers on it, I gotta know what that is for._ Just a look, he reminded himself.  


  He passed the Kitchen, turning to walked into the next room as quietly as he could in his current state. He saw a wall with red string and tacs and papers of all sorts, some had red crossed out X on them. He briefly wondered what it meant, but as he reach towards one of the photo's that looked vaguely familiar, when a voice hit her ears....  


"Looking for something?" The voice had an accent unlike most of those he had heard in this place. He couldn't quite pinpoint where it was from, confused as the voice was muffled by the pounding of his own heart. He turned to look, finding himself looking at a man clad in white decorative robes, of obvious Indian heritage, his accent suddenly made sense. Thick eyebrows raising up in a expression of caution and amused curiosity at seeing Alva- _Aiden's_ surprised face.  


He was still in pain, not near death by any means, but he did stitch up his side and shoulder _without_ painkillers. And felt pretty exhausted, borderline delirious even, not to mention he tended to forget the English classes he took all those years ago when he was nervous. Too tired to remember English, too tired to answer, too tired to deal with this. He felt so tired, but despite that he managed to reply in a deeper voice, playing to the male-appearance he was going for. He used to sing as a hobbie so was quite used to adjusting his voice and it came with ease. But instead of some elegant excuse or explanation for why he was going through this man's stuff....

"Shit...." he muttered out in English, " _ce train appartient à quelqu'un d'autre.._ "(this train belongs to someone else...) he muttered more quietly in his native tongue. The man's eyebrow raised, he clutched his side slightly, his other hand reaching for his dagger, Aiden had to leave, _now._

The thing was, he wasn't sure he had the strength to jump from a _moving_ train anymore.

He looked for his escape anyway, eye's glancing at the Indian man, his robes vaguely reminded him of his father's robes, he was blocking an exit with his body. His eyebrows scrunching together as he looked Aiden over, eye's settling on the frenchman's arm clutching his side. Before those same brown eye's locked with Aiden's red one's.

"Your injured... Let me help-" He stepped forward, he spoke slowly, seeming to sense English wasn't Aiden's first language _I guess he heard me muttering earlier._ Maybe he wasn't as quiet as he thought, but as he moved forward, in his injured panic state he... Panicked. He looked kinda like Louis for a moment, kinda like those men on the street, kinda like a enemy. Aiden was on his train, taking his stuff, surly he meant her harm, surly he was angry. 

  


* * *

Surly? 

 

So he ran, he turned and stumbled back into the kitchen only to halt in the door-way as he almost smacked his face into a bare chest with a odd bird-tattooed on the left side. His vision was blurring and he couldn't make out exactly what kind of bird, turning his eye's up to lock with another man's eyes.

"Y'know its rude to steal, are ya' looking for somethin' in particular _bud?_ " A gruff, husky voice spoke, Aiden was sure his heart would explode out of his chest. He took a step back, raising his dagger up. _I'm trapped inside a small space, this isn't good, this is bad._ Visions seem to flash in front of the frenchman's eyes, suddenly he was back home, stuck in the closet as his dad bled out and died. Helpless, trapped, _trapped._

__Fear gripped Aiden, its tendrils of darkness grabbing his lungs and squeezing so hard he was sure he couldn't breath at all.

" _attendre.._.(wait)" Aiden's voice sounded weak, but he refused to give up. He hated that his English went out the window when he was nervous, he could barley decipher what this other man said let alone speak in his language. Not with the fear gripping him, not with it feeling so tight, so hard to breath, his chest bindings not helping at all right now.

The Englishman's eye's locked with the Indian man, he smirked, turning into a cheeky grin that spread over his features. If Aiden wasn't in so much pain and fear he'd admit this man was rather handsome actually. The first man seemed to frown at the Englishman, as if saying 'no'. But the Englishman must've ignored him because his frown deepened when he stepped closer to her. 

 

"I'm afraid I only have one use for sneaky Blighter's who come to steal from me, you, Sir, made the wrong choice..." He suddenly realized something.

This man had a hidden blade strapped to his arm, like Louis. _Is he a Templar?_ But she didn't have time to wonder too long, because he was suddenly lunging at Aiden, a kick to the frenchman's head, he ducked down just in time to hear his foot swish by his head. Turning to block a punch, but with his other arm unable to be used - it made his side open.

And of course, the Englishman saw this, and he punched Aiden with his metal knuckles right into his wounded side.  
The pain alone made him collapse onto one knee, grimacing. Panting heavily, and gasping for air. _I'm trapped, I'm trapped, I'm trapped_ Aiden's breathing went from a pained-one to a hyperventilating one. The Englishman grabbed his jacket pulling him closer, his hidden blade pressing against Aiden's neck. Aiden noticed he had quite obvious side burns, and his hair was a mess, _must've woken him up...huh..._ He asked Aiden something, shaking him, but black spots filled the frenchman's vision. He could make out what he said, something about work... name... names? Did he want Aiden's name?

"Aiden..." Was the first thing out of his mouth. 

 

He yelled again but it sounded so... Distant... So quiet, and he suddenly found tears filling his eyes. The pain, it hurt, _it hurt so much_ , he just wanted it to end. _Kill me, just kill me_. He thought, _how do you say it in English?_

 

" _Tue-moi_ " he said barley a whisper, gasping for air, despite the Englishman not even choking Aiden at all. His chest felt so heavy the fear gripping painfully hard, his vision filling with black spots all around. The man scoffed in annoyance, saying something about 'speaking' and 'english' and something about 'country' or something such. He couldn't make it out well enough. His friend was at his side now, looking concerned, _for me or him?_ Aiden wondered, as he gripped his paler-skinned friend's shoulder tightly. The Englishman asked him something, then he finally remembered how to say it in English.

 

Tears sprung out of his eyes spilling down his cheeks, the Englishman looked shocked at seeing Aiden's tears, shocked enough to almost drop him. His eyes' wide, pushing him away as if his tears were poison to him.

**"Its a woman!"** he declared as if the discovery of the century. Aiden would have laughed with hysteria if not for the pain burning in his ribs.

"Kill me," Aiden said, as he fell to his knee's, he couldn't breath, it was so hard to breath. The Englishman went to touch his shoulder, but he lashed out in fear, his clawed-gloves ripping into the man's arm as he let out a annoyed growl. His fist swinging up and striking Aiden right in the temple, the frenchman collapsed onto his side, clutching his wounded ribs and letting the fear and darkness take him.

"Kill me please..." he pleaded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Language barriers are fun.  
> I don't know why but I just like them.
> 
>  
> 
> So... Aiden is having a good time... Yeah...


	2. Mid Morning Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aiden still thinks Jacob is a Templar, Jacob thinks Aiden is a Blighter, every is confused really. But the real crime is the lettuce cart!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I know there are some inconsistencies with Aiden's injuries, blah blah, I spent months banging my head to finish this chapter so please just take it XD. I also added a few tags for certain comments in this chapter just in case, there will be some racist comments made towards Aiden in future chapters so I went ahead and added that now.

Jacob was frustrated, why was his sisters head so full of fantasy stories and fluff? Why couldn't she see he was right? Obviously helping free London's people from their oppressors was more important than some fake fantasy story about some cloak. But no, she didn't see it that way, and she didn't see it his way about their new guest either. She  _never_  saw it his way, and it drove him insane, she always criticized him and picked at him and he had about  _enough._  He was a full grown man now, not some little kid, he deserved respect!   
  
At least Greenie wasn't siding with her, of course, he didn't really side with Jacob either. But the British man didn't know if he could talk arguing with the both of them, that would be enough to drive him off the edge. Not that he was going to let Evie know how close to that edge he was already - of course not - he laughed at her argument rolling his eyes, arms folded. Acting like nothing was bothering him and her words were just silly. Despite the anger rising inside him, he kept it locked up behind a mask of indifference.   
  
She however, that is, Evie, looked  _furious_  and it brought some satisfaction to the other twin. A grin forming on his face turning into a smirk as she turned her glare on him.   
"We should see what information we can get out of him first, I want to know how he knew when to get on the train.... And why he was looking at our map." She folded her arms mimicking Jacob's posture but instead of a smile she had a deep frown. "Unlike you Jacob I like to get what information I can out of my enemies before disposing of them." She said it with venom in her voice.   
  
Jacob was still shocked to find the man who had been stumbling around in  _his_ train looking at  _his_ map was actually a woman... Dressed as a man. That twisted his brain so he stuck with just calling the new guest a dude, he was dressed like one anyway, Jacob wouldn't question it, it wasn't his business and he really didn't care that much. He just wanted to make it clear to these blighters that anyone who tried to sneak aboard his train would have a gruesome demise, scare off anyone else from trying it out. Otherwise, they'd never get any good sleep!   
  
"And I want to make sure these blighters know not to mess with us! The longer he stays here the more likely they think they can just jump aboard anytime they want!" He snapped back motioning with his hands.   
  
Finally, Henry spoke up, thank goodness, Jacob was going crazy wondering what the assassin was thinking. He turned to Greenie expectantly as the Indian man stood up,    
"We're assuming the intruder was a blighter...She....He seemed pretty confused, and injured at that." Henry pointed out, almost sheepishly, glancing between the two twins.   
Well, Jacob had to admit he hadn't thought about that, but it just seemed obvious he must be a blighter, in clothes like those? Not the typical red but not something some civilian would wear, something only someone hiding weapons under that coat would wear. Something  _he_ would wear if he were hiding his many weapons. And looking at his map, that too, he was still mad about that.  _No one steals my map!_ Okay it was really Henry's map, since he made it, but that was beside the point!   
  
Just then there was a loud CRASH.   
  
Everyone in the room halted for a second.   
  
"Lets go say hello to our guest shall we?" He said with a sinister grin spreading over his face. 

* * *

  
Aiden heard yelling,    
  
He stirred, finding that he felt a lot better then he did when he was last conscious. He couldn't tell how long he'd been out but it felt like longer then a day by the fact his wounds weren't screaming. They still hurt when he twisted his torso too much but over all a lot better. Maybe he was given medicine - he really couldn't remember, the last day was a blur of pain and confusion.   
  
He felt... Exposed, and opening his eye's he realized he  _was_  exposed. Shirtless, shoeless, in nothing but the pants he had been wearing. And his bindings, plus some new clean and nice bandages across his ribs and arm. Huh. He didn't expect such hospitality from Templars, it was just to keep him alive though. That he was sure of.   
  
He turned his head, finding himself laying on a bed one of his arms tied to the post, but otherwise nothing holding him down.  _A little too trusting huh?_  He thought to himself, perhaps they didn't expect him to be strong enough to escape. Well, they might be right actually, but that wasn't going to stop him from trying. He looked around the room, they didn't do much to try to keep the stuff out of his eyesight.  _Must not be that important, I was pretty weak they probably don't expect much from me._  In this case, maybe it was good, or maybe it was the yelling outside. A good distraction either way.   
  
There was no way he was going to stick around and wait for some Templar to storm in and torture him for information, or worse, take him back to his Uncle Louis. Aiden shivered at the thought, the murder that was in that mans eyes - the  _deadness_  - the blood of Aiden's father on his hands - he quickly shut that memory down feeling his whole body flinch at the images that flashed in his mind. No way was he sticking around,  _no way._  These guys were Templars, they had to be, they even had a hidden blade-like Louis! It wasn't like there was any other secret group that used hidden blades.... Right?   
  
He realized suddenly, he forgot he had claws.   
  
Did... Did he forget to mention he was a little odd for a human? Well, obviously the people who tied him up - probably that guy with the bird tattoo and his Indian friend - obviously weren't expecting a person to have claws. I mean, most  _humans_  didn't, but one could debate about that. In the age of science and discovery, he wasn't interested in boasting about his slightly more _odd traits_.  
  
Anyway, it was useful right now, because he easily cut the ropes, quietly and slowly putting his clothes - which were piled at the end of the bed - back on. He had to move slowly due to his injuries, but with the yelling outside the room silence wasn't a huge issue, still, he tried not to make too much noise. Rising to his feet he searched the room for  _anything_  useful, and on opening some drawers he did! An old hidden blade, it looked like it had seen quite a few years, the leather worn and dusty, the metal was still in good shape though. Some other kind of contraption on its base which he couldn't quite figure out. Maybe later he'd take a closer look. Right now he just wanted  _something_  he could use to defend himself.   
  
He hated using the same kind of weapon that Louis uses but... It was better than being defenseless. Aiden tried to ignore the fact it was the same kind, at least it looked a lot different than Louis's, so that helped. After strapping it on he grabbed a few random items, some kind of small knife, some change leftover in a tophat, and extra bandages left on the table. But when he turned towards the window, he accidentally hit something, a small candle, it fell off the table and onto the floor with a loud CLANK.   
  
"...Fuck." At least he knew how to curse in English, he was starting to remember those English lessons now. 

* * *

  
  
When Jacob stepped into the room they had tied up the injured man, he was gone. How did he escape? And for that matter, the guy had been out like a stone what woke him up? It didn't matter he decided, turning and pushing past his sibling who let out an angry noise as Jacob stomped towards the exit to the train.   
  
"And where are you going, dear brother?" She inquired of him, in that mocking tone she was so good at using on him.   
  
He felt that anger starting to break through his mask of indifference as his fist's clenched at his sides.   
"To do what we should have done when I first found that blighter, Templar, whoever the heck he is."   
  
"Jacob!"   
  
He ignored her, jumping from the train, and rolling to a stop on the pebble covered road.    
He looked to his right, down where the man would have jumped out - he couldn't be far - and lo and behold there he was. Running, half limping, back down the tracks like a total idiot. Great escape plan. Jacob scoffed, this would be  _easy._  He confidently ran after him, a big grin on his face.  
  
As he was gaining on the man he called out to him, hardly out of breath. "Hey where do you think your goin' bud? Can't we just have some tea and chat?" He sneered. The escapee glared at him over his shoulder, the ground was closer here as the train tracks angled down slowly towards London's streets. He didn't reply, but he had understood based on the scowl on his face, it only encouraged the British man to run faster, feeling a rush of satisfaction.  Jacob knew what he would do seconds before he did it - the man turned and jumped down over the railing.  

Jacob was already half-way down by the time the escapee hit the cart full of lettuce. A big explosion of light green shooting into the air and raining down on those around unexpectedly. Someone screamed, and another person cursed "Bloody kids these days" some older man said as he limped away from the scene. He would have laughed if he wasn't currently focused on finding the cause of the famous lettuce explosion.

 

 

* * *

 

Aiden was scared, who wouldn't be? This guy  _wouldn't leave him alone_. And hitting that lettuce had  _hurt_ , he grunted, the angry owner of said lettuce yelling at him. Jumping out and shouting a "Sorry!" as he ran down the alleyway. Looking over his shoulder he saw that Templar jump down just then, glancing around until his dark eyes locked on Aiden's red ones. A cold shiver of fear ran down his spine at the murderous eyes looking his way.

He felt his stomach drop through the floor cold fear gripped him, and he ran faster. He needed a distraction, something to get the man off his back so to speak. But what? He turned down the street and jumped over the low wall crossing the street, freezing for a moment when he was almost run over by the horse and chart that came flying by in front of him. He didn't bother to look back over his shoulder and instead did something that was probably kinda stupid. 

He jumped onto the side of the nearest cart, claws digging deep into the wood, arms screaming from suddenly having to hold up all the french celtic man's weight. He didn't try to climb up, too focused on just  _holding on_  to even think of moving. Just then, as if sensing this, he almost fell off when a knife came flying through the air and stuck into the sleeve of his coat. But the chart was already halfway down the street, leaving the owner of the said knife - the templar he assumed -the man with the fancy tophat in the dust. For now, Aiden did not fail to notice him running towards the rooftop moments before. But he had to shift his focus elsewhere at the current moment. 

It wasn't until his heart was pounding in his ears that he realized the owner of this chart was rather angry, yelling and shaking his fist at the other man. "Uh, my apologies" Aiden gave him a wide smile as he finally pulled himself up, leaving some less than obvious claw marks where he had been gripping the cart before. The man stared wide-eyed, "Uh, sorry  _Monsieur_ " Aiden smiled sheepishly. The man pulled on the reigns - welp time to get off - he leapt from the cart and onto the nearest wall. Using his claws and gaps in the bricks to clamber up onto the low roof of the relatively abandoned building. Panting hard from the climb, it had been a long time since his last 'training' session with his father. He knew how to climb and leap and run like an Assassin but he hadn't built up much muscle more it due to lack of using those skills. 

Finally, he was able to pause, the chaos the running, the panic. It came to a pause as he let out a quiet breath into the cold air of the morning, turning around he looked down on the London streets from the rooftop. Waistcoat flapping in the wind, he tried to spot that man who was chasing him from the train before - but as much as he looked he didn't see him. Did Aiden lose him finally? Or was he just somewhere down there unseen, waiting, for the moment of weakness, a moment to attack? How would he survive in this new world? He knew so little of... 

He sighed, "What have I gotten myself into now?" rubbing a hand over his face. He enjoyed the moment of peace, letting his legs hang off the roof, height never bothered him before and still didn't. The adrenaline was wearing off, he needed to figure out his plan...And soon. He couldn't keep running like this, he needed rest, food, and a hot meal. Not an easy thing to come by, perhaps he could work somewhere? But where? He had never worked anywhere before...What was he good at anyway? Working with his hands maybe? Well, first things first, he needed a place to sleep. "Let's hope that guy with the top hat has bigger fish to worry about than me... It's enough having to worry about Louis..." 

Then there was a voice, from behind. 

_"But my dear, currently you're the only fish I'm interested in~"_

The shivers that went down Aiden's spine was  _all fear_ , definitely, totally, completely all fear, not anything else. 

Mostly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all fear for sure 
> 
> not like
> 
> any attraction 
> 
> nah nothing like that


End file.
